


The Letter

by tea (SPICEandTEA)



Series: Before We Say Goodbye [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Army, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPICEandTEA/pseuds/tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seems John Watson was no longer considered an invalid.</p>
<p>He was going back.</p>
<p>They were making him go back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Letter

 

 

It took John two weeks to tell Sherlock.

At first, it was because he had a lot on his mind; preparations to make, people to call, but, most importantly, reality had to set in. For the first week, all John did was wake up, go to work and, after drinking his tea, go up to his room. He would sit on his bed with the letter in his hands and reread every word, over and over, in hopes that he missed a valid point somewhere (a "just kidding, mate, this is just a joke" or a "we're not forcing you, you can choose, no pressure").

It seems John Watson was no longer considered an invalid.

The notice was legitimate. Stiff paper, accurate insignias (wow, now he's sounding like Sherlock), recognizable seal. How word got around to the army, John had no clue, nor how this whole predicament was even possible.

_Through the inquiry of certain resources, we have noticed the improvement of your health and wellbeing.  With the success of your rapid recovery, the army is grateful to welcome you back to its forces to complete your obligatory tour_.

He was going back.

They were making him go back.

"Sherlock..."

No reply (of course). Sherlock is in the kitchen staring into his microscope thoughtfully. John feels as if he's about to die. He takes a step forward, wrinkling the letter in his shaking, sweaty hands.

"Sherlock."

"My God, John, what is it? Can't you see I'm busy with work? Your voice is a distraction..."

"Sherlock," John says firmly now, making Sherlock meet his gaze and, though his clear eyes are obviously annoyed, they showed he is alert and listening, "there's something I need to tell you…”

Sherlock sits back in his chair, "Oh good, is it the thing that has been bothering you for the last...15 days? Oh, don't look at me like that, it was obvious."  He stands and walks into the living room, picking up his violin in a graceful swoop. "You have not being trying your pathetic attempts to have conversations with other people, when at home you’re mostly in your room.  Nightmares and 3 am tea usually raise the red flag, John,” he takes the bow into his hand and inspects it carefully. “Break up with one of your idiotic girlfriends again?"

"Sherlock...I'm leaving."

Now the clear eyes have changed entirely and are staring at him like he is the only person left in the world. John can trace Sherlock's thought process, how he's trying to think of words, form a sentence and release a clear thought. But Sherlock only stares, his mouth ajar preparing to say the words he cannot find.  His face is a perfect portrait of confusion, and John would laugh at him if the propensity to vomit wasn’t so strong.

Instead, John just hands him the letter.

Ten minutes pass in silence as Sherlock mimics what John has done for the past two weeks. Read. Reread. Look for error. Search for fallacy or proof of counterfeit. John eventually sits in his chair. It seems Sherlock can't find the "hahahah gotcha" either.

When John was invalidated, he couldn't imagine his life without the army.  He was overpowered by the feeling of uselessness and failure, truly thought of his existence as worthless.  He would have given everything to go back.  But now, after being swept off his feet and caught in the whirlwind named Sherlock Holmes, the desire to return to the frontlines disappeared.  Now he would give anything to stay here, in 221B, in the tempest he calls everyday life. What’s been taken away from him is being given back, but he doesn’t want it anymore.

John would give anything to make it disappear.

"I'll call Mycroft."

The silence is broken by Sherlock’s panicked voice.  It’s the first time John has ever heard him sound like that, but he jut shakes his head as Sherlock sprints around the flat in search of his mobile. "I'll call Mycroft. He can do anything. Surly he can, he’s practically the British--"

"Sherlock."

He turns around at the sound of his name. Their eyes meet and have their silent conversation.

_I called. He tried._

_Apparently he didn't try hard enough._

_He owns the government. Not the army._

_He should own both._

_Sherlock, he did everything he could._

_... John._

_It’s okay. I’m sorry._

Eventually Sherlock sits down in the chair across from John. He mutters out a word and, although it is broken, it’s coherent. "When?"

"The 17th."

"A month and a half before you go back to Afghanistan."

They sit in silence for the rest of the evening, each lost in their own thoughts. John knows his duty and his obligation to the army.  He won’t run, won’t fight the decision that has been made. If they had welcomed him back a year ago, he would be jumping for joy and on the first plane. But that was before he met Sherlock, before he found another purpose in his life.

The room quickly filled with two emotions. One is uncertainty, but the other sensation is so overpowering, uncertainty is almost invisible.

The other is fear.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This series is based on the real life events of SPICE and I before I left for college. We did a lot of crazy stuff and are happy to have John and Sherlock come with us on our journey. It'll be a tad angsty...but who doesn't like that. They're relationship is going to be challenged and intensified and it'll be great as long as we know people are reading/liking it. So please read/like it. It's really important to us.


End file.
